Four Things and One
by Simple Heart
Summary: Four things Leonard McCoy couldn't fix and one thing he did. pre- Kirk/McCoy slash


This was my third contribution to the smallfandomfest over on LJ. The prompt: Kirk & McCoy "I can Fix That!" I couldn't make it slash so since I included a reference to the last part in another one of my fics, it's officially pre-slash. Kinda. Beta'd by the wonderful Lady Kirin and samtheburrito. You guys rock! Enjoy.

Four Things Dr. Leonard McCoy Couldn't Fix and One Thing He Did

F

Dr. Leonard McCoy had never known his father well. Sure they had the father-son bond going on and it would be a lie to say he hadn't loved his father. And Dr. David McCoy was a great man and doctor, but his parental guidance suffered because of this.

McCoy's father left the house at five in the morning and got home at eight at night, two hours before McCoy had to get up for school and around the time he had to go to bed. The only 'family time' was when his father had allowed him to come to work with him. The nurses were nice and absolutely adored his 'cute little cheeks'. Soon he began to pick up medical facts here and there. The look of pride on his father's face when McCoy began to use them catalyzed his desire to become a great doctor like his father, because, maybe, just maybe, then his dad would actually talk to him.

He'd been wrong. He was able to see the man more but they rarely talked. The only clap on the back and words of approval McCoy ever received was the day he graduated from med school as the youngest graduate to date.

Years went by and finally his father's age caught up with him, and for the first time medicine let McCoy down. He spent three years watching his father waste away ignoring his pleas to end his life. Instead he focused on finding a cure, and after three years, he still hadn't found it.

He stood at the foot of his father's deathbed.

"Please, I can't take it anymore." His father's words were weak, no longer sounding like the proud, strong man he'd once been.

At McCoy's hesitation, he added, "I've suffered long enough. I'm in too much pain."

Well he could fix that; the years had taken their toll and he could at least give his father this.

A year later they discovered the cure, and McCoy realized he hadn't fixed anything.

FI

It was McCoy's first unassisted trauma surgery. The man was human, middle aged with an unkempt face. He stank of alcohol, so McCoy surmised he'd been in some kind of bar fight. A bar fight with sharp knives, heavy boots and probably some furniture thrown into the mix. His patient was bleeding profusely and appeared to have been left to die. The femoral artery had been nicked and the radial artery had been cut clean through.

"Hand me a clamp. I can fix that." McCoy had murmured to the assistant, zeroing in on the damage.

Except he hadn't…less than a half hour later they lost him on the table due to severe trauma and blood loss. The head surgeon had come by as he was washing up afterward and assured him there wasn't a thing he could've done, the injuries were just too severe. McCoy didn't, and to this day still doesn't, believe him. Watching the now single mother crumple as she was told the news sent the guilt burrowing deep in his heart, he could feel her pain. Thanks to him she was now a widow, left to raise three children alone.

It had been a puzzle he just couldn't fix.

FIX

At first McCoy's marriage had been everything both of them had ever wanted. Their mornings were spent lying together talking about nothing important until they were too hungry to stay in bed. Breakfast was made together and they ate before McCoy had to head over to the clinic for his swing shift. When Joanna came long, he felt as if his life couldn't get any better; he had a loving wife, a beautiful daughter, a great home and a steady well-paying job. He and Jocelyn loved each other deeply.

At least so he'd thought. The fights had begun small, just them yelling about this and that. Then they began to grow. They argued about his hours at the clinic, where the money was being spent, about Joanna's future. Eventually the cracks grew and split them apart. Each of them was standing on the side of an impassable canyon.

McCoy had seen it when the fights had first began. He'd tried to fix it, did what Jocelyn had asked him to but nothing seemed to work. He knew that it was useless, and after Joanna turned seven they couldn't take it anymore. After twelve years of marriage, they went their separate ways and thanks to the totally un-biased judge, his ex-wife had gotten everything he'd ever owned. Except for a duffle-bag of clothes and just enough credits to get to the Starfleet base where the new cadets were leaving.

After another failure to fix things, he was heading off to a new future.

FIXE

What he missed most about his marriage was being able to see his daughter. Now a year into his academic career and he lived all the way across the continent from Joanna. He regrets not being there for her during her early teens. They've missed out on so much.

Yet, Joanna doesn't seem to think so. Three months ago Jocelyn had called him, asking him to watch the ranch while she went on a vacation. Their break-up had been bitter but they were both trying to get through it. So he was finally able to spend some quality time with his little girl. It was a good bonding experience despite Jim Kirk's antics. McCoy still doesn't know why he let Jim come along in the first place; the puppy dog look had lost its potency long ago.

On the Wednesday of his last week, he was out on the back porch, sprawled against the steps with Joanna sitting next to him. It was late evening and the sun was casting golden light around them and a gentle breeze kicked up the tufts of dandelion seeds. They were watching Jim flail around trying to out-run Joanna's Golden Retriever and Great Pyrenees. They couldn't help but laugh.

The fact that Joanna's childhood should've been like this, full of laughter and golden sunlight, instead of all the fights and yelling, hit him. McCoy had grown up in a home where love had been absent and fights were common. He'd sworn to himself that his child's childhood would be different than his own, and yet love had turned to hate and divorce. He needed to explain this to Joanna, to say he was sorry. McCoy must've had that look on his face, because Joanna gave him a glare.

"Don't even start, Dad. We've been over this before. It's okay. I mean you're here with me now right?"

She bumped his shoulder, and tilted her head in that adorable way that she knew would melt his heart, and smiled. A quirked smile, not unlike his own.

"Yeah," he replied looping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

"Aw, you guys are having a group hug and you didn't tell me about it?"

They looked up to see Jim standing in front of them panting with his blond hair windswept and his bright blue eyes sparkling. Jenny and Buffo sat at his feet, tongues lolling.

Jim grinned evilly before launching himself at their 'group hug'.

"Jim, wait-" McCoy tried to stop the disaster he could see coming, but it was too late.

One of his favorite memories from the trip was that evening, trapped between his daughter and best friend while two giant tongues gave his face a bath.

Yet there was a bitter-sweet feeling. McCoy was doing his best to make his daughter's life better now, but he should've been able to do that before. Joanna said there was nothing that needed fixing, but he should've been there to give her the childhood she deserved.

FIXED

McCoy got the call at four in the morning; the shrill beeping of a call waiting had woken him from a blissfully deep sleep. After working 18 straight hours, it was a much deserved sleep and there'd better be a damn good reason for the call.

Ten minutes later he stood in front of a beaten, bloody and definitely drunk James T. Kirk.

"Unbelievable," McCoy muttered rubbing his eyes. He really should've known. One of these days he was going to get Jim to take his name off the emergency contacts list.

"That's what she said," Jim slurred, with a goofy smile.

"Come on," McCoy growled rolling his eyes, jerking none too gently on his friend's arm and towing him out of the now empty bar.

"I appreciate this," he murmured to the bartender that stood at the doorway. The man just nodded, after two and a half years at the academy nearly every bar in a twenty mile radius was familiar with Jim Kirk and therefore was familiar with McCoy as well.

"See he gets some rest, those guys were none to gentle with him." McCoy nodded back and tugged Jim out onto the street, heading for his car.

"Come on, let's go home," he softly said helping Jim into the car and buckling his belt.

He had to listen to the night's conquests the entire way home, and if later he jabbed the hypospray a little too hard into Jim's neck, he was entitled to a little payback.

About five minutes into cleaning Jim's various cuts and bruises, it looked like the medication was beginning to work and his patient was becoming less intoxicated. McCoy prodded Jim to take off his shirt so he could treat his ribs.

"They started saying things about my father," Jim began out of nowhere. McCoy growled a little, suddenly hating the group of men that had done this just a little bit more. The subject of George Kirk was still a sensitive one for Jim, even after all these years.

"I couldn't just stand there and let them say those things."

"It probably helped you'd had a few already," the doctor absently stated, dabbing a cut on Jim's bicep.

Jim roughly jerked away, hurt quickly flashing in his eyes and McCoy hurried to smooth things over.

"I'm all for defending your family's honor and all that, but was taking on a group of drunken men really going to accomplish that?" he asked, knowing from past experiences that getting drunk at some bar did no good in the long run.

"You need to be careful, you're lucky you haven't been kicked out yet. You need to start taking rules a little more seriously," he added returning to his work.

"Oh, right like I'm going to start following rules now." Jim snorted rolling his stormy blues eyes.

"Dammit Jim would you just listen to me!" McCoy snapped and his friend looked little taken back, "You have a chance to turn you life around. Whatever you were before, you don't have to be it anymore. You have a promising career and in my opinion you're going to make a damn fine captain, but you've got to stop tearing yourself up like this. Trust me, it's not worth it."

All the years of hating himself for the things he couldn't fix. The drunken nights after all his failures, the man with the wife and daughter that would forever remain nameless, his father, his marriage, his daughter's childhood, had amounted for nothing. McCoy had to make Jim understand that his destructive ways wouldn't help anything, and just as he'd had his turning point, he needed to get Jim see his own. McCoy let out a long breath, aware that Jim was watching his every move.

"I'm saying this as your friend and as someone who's been in the hole you're in, heck I'm still not completely out of it yet. You'll still screw up to an extent, and I'm not telling you to stop being your moronic, trigger happy, 'jump in and damn the consequences' self. I'm just saying open your eyes. There are people out there, whether they admit it or not that care about what happens to you. You're not alone Jim, not anymore."

Jim sat there a minute, mulling over his words. He remained silent, while McCoy finished treating his wounds, sharp blue eyes following his every move. When the doctor moved to get up, Jim grabbed his wrist.

"Thanks, Bones." McCoy could hear the true emotion and weight that was hidden in the words.

"You're welcome. But the next time you come crawling in here, dead drunk and your ass kicked, I'm going to let you drool on the floor and drown in your own vomit," McCoy replied shaking the used hypospray at him before disposing of it.

"I love you too, Bones," Jim joked dryly, still sitting on his bed.

"Get up and go crawl into you own bed. I plan to finish my first eight hours of sleep in eighteen hours," McCoy growled shoving him in the direction of his own bed.

"You work too much, Bones," Jim remarked, flopping down.

"Goodnight, Jim." They'd had this discussion before, and he really wanted to get to sleep.

"Computer, lights out," Jim yawned, crawling under his covers and the room went thankfully dark.

Silence enveloped them, and soon McCoy could hear soft snores coming from his roommate's side of the room.

He knew that Jim Kirk had a long road ahead of him, and he would have to work hard to prove himself. Yet, he also knew that Jim could do it and at least the man knew he had a friend that would be there every step of the way to drill some sense into him and to pick him up and dust him off when he fell.

At that moment, McCoy knew he'd finally been able to put all the pieces back together into working order. It seemed his skilled hands were finally able to fix something after all.

Did you like it? Let me know! R&R


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